Harry Potter and the Bronze Dragon
by Scarlet Phoenix
Summary: With the constant threat of Voldemort overhead, Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts may not be all that enjoyable...
1. Chapter 1

bronzedragon1

**Chapter 1**

"Do something with that hair, boy!" Vernon Dursley, a large, purple faced man with hardly any neck, bellowed to Harry Potter one morning at breakfast. Harry paid no heed to his words, his hair was unmanageable no matter what he did to it. 

It was a normal morning at Privet Drive; as normal as it could get with three relatives that treated the underage wizard like dirt, that it. Coming back from the ride home, Harry had made the resolution not to let the Dursleys push him around this summer, and he stuck with it. He no longer had to do any chores, but he got very tiny portions of food. "If you don't work your keep around here," Vernon had snarled at him, "you don't get to eat as much as we hard-working people do." Hiding his anger, Harry distantly remembered wondering: Does sitting around playing on your computer and PlayStation while stuffing yourself silly count as work? Because that's all Dudley did. 

Yes, Dudley was now off his diet. Vernon and Petunia had discovered some tailor out there that made clothes especially for people who couldn't find clothes in their own sizes. They had immediately rushed out to him and paid him a large sum of money to make Dudley's knickerbockers, and once Harry saw them, he choked back his laughter. They were so big that he reckoned they could have fit Hagrid. 

Speaking of Hagrid...the last time Harry had spoke to him was a very short letter a couple of weeks ago. It was cheerful and made him long to get back to Hogwarts and his friends even more, and consisted mainly of telling him to be careful and stay out of trouble, like all of his letters. Now that Voldemort had risen, Dumbledore had sent him a letter delivered by Fawkes (his phoenix) telling him that owls could and probably would be intercepted. Therefore, he had to keep his letters short and use initials instead of names, as well as not sending Hedwig out too often. 

This discouraged Harry a bit, but he obeyed the instructions of his Headmaster. There was no telling what Voldemort would do, what his next plans were, who he was going to kill next...so far, a few Muggles were killed and the Dark Mark had been in the sky, but Fudge insisted that it was only the Death Eaters "rallying together to scare us now that rumors about You-Know-Who are being spread." 

This was a quote from Fudge himself, the headline of the Daily Prophet one day. He still denied Voldemort's return and had even gone as far to say that Harry Potter may be "mentally unstable for the society". After this, the words "Harry Potter" were on almost every headline for weeks, usually followed by, "Sane or Insane?" or "Needs Treatment". They had even interviewed a doctor from St. Mungo's, and he spent the whole interview saying that either Harry really was mentally unstable or he was just doing it for attention. 

One minute, everyone would be praising him, and the next they would be questioning his mind! Both actions made Harry feel sick to his stomach, any fame to him was awful. More than once, he wished that he was a normal kid with regular parents instead of the Boy Who Lived.   
Harry pulled himself back to the present, Vernon was rambling on about something and he thought he heard a word that caught his attention. 

"Ms. Figg will be coming over this afternoon, boy, and I want none of your--funny business--or I'll flay you within an inch of your life. You'll be sticking with your story about St. Brutus's or there'll be trouble--" 

Ms. Figg? Could she possibly be Arabella Figg, the one Dumbledore sent Sirius out to recruit? After a moment of thought, Harry pushed this possibility out of his mind. No way this could be true. His life had taken on too many unexpected twists, this couldn't be one of them. Then again, unexpected twists could be predicted, this was his fifth year in the wizarding world, after all. Throw in the fact that he's the Harry Potter, and he'll never get a break. 

"Are you listening to me?" Vernon roared. 

Harry groaned slightly before mummering, "Yes." 

Vernon glanced at him suspiciously before continuing, "If she finds out about your--abnormality--I will personally--" 

Like Harry thought earlier, it was a normal day at Privet Drive. 

*** 

Later that afternoon, Harry was in his bedroom working on his Potions essay. Snape had made it ridiculously hard, 3 rolls of parchment on a topic that, at most, filled up 1 and ½. As he was dipping his quill in the ink bottle, Petunia's shrill voice came from downstairs. "Boy, get down here and greet Ms. Figg, you ungrateful creature!" 

Harry rolled his eyes and quickly stuffed his parchment, quill, and books into the loose floorboard under his bed, in case Dudley decided to sneak in his room like he used to. Then he miserably headed downstairs to listen to Ms. Figg drone on and on about her cats while Dudley shot him sneering looks and Vernon and Petunia glared at him as though it was his own fault that he was born into this world under their care. 

But when he got to the bottom of the stairs, something was sitting down near Ms. Figg at her feet. Petunia was wincing whenever he moved, and Dudley looked afraid of him. This something was a great, shaggy black dog. 

It was Sirius, wagging his tail to Harry and quickly bounding over to jump all over him (much to Harry's protests). 

"I see you've met Snuffles, Harry," Ms. Figg said pleasantly. "I've taken a liking to dogs rather than cats after Tibbles and Muffy almost clawed each other to death." Harry managed, miraculously, to get Sirius down and off of him and then stared at Ms. Figg in awe. So she was a witch--and she knew Sirius was innocent! 

"Yeah..." Harry said, still amazed. "Yeah, he's a great dog." He suddenly grinned and scratched Sirius behind the ears. "Isn't that right, Snuffles?" Sirius growled playfully. 

"Boy, don't get him feisty! If one single thing gets ruined, you're cleaning it up!" Vernon boomed from his spot on the couch. Sirius seemed kind of shocked at Harry's treatment, but Harry merely shrugged and settled himself into an armchair. 

For the few minutes, Ms. Figg and the Dursleys talked about drills and equally boring things. Harry was going out of his mind with boredom. Ms. Figg asked him a few questions about school, and he replied, making stories up about St. Brutus's on the spot; but they were always short lived, as Petunia or Vernon would interrupt. Dudley just sat there and watched his family and neighbors talk, occasionally walking into the kitchen and returning with some greasy, fattening food. Just as Harry thought he might give the whole wizarding world a shock and actually go mad from boredom, Sirius jumped up and scratched on the back door. 

"Get him off of my precious glass!" Petunia shrieked. 

Harry rolled his eyes and walked over to him, taking his paws off of the glass door. "He wants to go out," Harry explained. "Can I take him? I won't make any trouble," he added hastily when he saw his aunt and uncle exchange glances. 

Dudley whispered (not so softly), "Dad, get him out of here." After hearing his son's demand, Vernon had no choice but to obey. After all, this was his precious little roughster. He grunted and Harry happily opened the back door and let Sirius run out. He sat down under the shade of a tree and Sirius walked over to the garage, expertly opened the door with his paws, and disappeared inside. A minute later, a new man was walking out. 

Sirius's change in appearance also startled Harry. He was even cleaner than the time when Harry saw him after the Third Task, with his hair neatly washed and combed and his used-to-be thin, skeletal figure was now filled out. Most importantly, he was smiling broadly. "Hey Harry," he said warmly, taking a spot beside him on the ground. "How are you?" 

"Okay, I guess," Harry said, lying slightly. He was fine, except for the nightmares that plagued his dreams every night. He considered himself to get a good night's sleep if he got four hours, he could never sleep after seeing Voldemort, Cedric, his parents' echoes... 

"You don't look okay," Sirius said, frowning slightly. Harry looked up at him into his eyes and found that the deadened, haunted look of Azkaban had almost left them..it would never leave, a painful reminder of what he went through, but it would decrease dramatically as time wore on. "Have you been sleeping okay?" 

He hit the nail right on the head. "Yeah," Harry said a little more firmly. He couldn't let Sirius think anything was wrong, or he might try to help him by visiting and get caught. Even though he desperately wanted him to, he reminded himself that he was being very selfish and forgot all about it at once. 

Sirius didn't look convinced, but he didn't persue the subject. "Okay then. But really--" he jerked his head slightly towards the door of Number Four, Privet Drive, "how can you live with them? They're horrible!" 

Harry smiled and said, "Practice, Sirius, practice." 


	2. Chapter 2

bronzedragon2

**Chapter 2**

Harry, for once, was feeling happy and joyful. He was staying at Ms. Figg's house for the rest of the holidays (one week), along with Sirius. He didn't know how Ms. Figg convinced the Dursleys, all he had done was finish his conversation with Sirius out in the backyard and had walked in to find the Dursleys sneering at him. "You're staying at Ms. Figg's house for the rest of the holidays, and she will be--delighted--to see you off of King's Cross to go to St. Brutus's." Vernon said, stressing the words "St. Brutus's" and acting as though Ms. Figg was out of her mind for taking him in. 

Harry, ecstatic, packed up his trunk quickly and headed out with Ms. Figg and Sirius in dog form. Out of eyesight from the peering eyes of Petunia, Ms. Figg made Harry's trunk feather light and he carried it easily. He also remembered having a very interesting conversation with them: 

"Are you Arabella Figg?" Harry had asked. 

Ms. Figg glanced at him swiftly, then answered, "No, but my daughter is." 

"You have a daughter?" Harry asked. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't know anything about Ms. Figg anymore, now that her true identity had been revealed. 

"Yes, I do. She's helping with the fight against Voldemort." Harry was even more suprised that she said Voldemort's name rather than You-Know-Who. "Snuffles came here to alert me, also--I play a small part in the resistance, also." There was the smallest hint of worry in her voice, but it was so quick that Harry wondered if he imagined it. Suddenly, she had turned her grave eyes to his own, and there was a motherly affection to them. He was slightly embarrassed, but then again, he hadn't received any comfort except at Hogwarts and was slightly cheered up from the grave conversation. 

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a witch?" Harry said, feeling slightly angry that another magical person had been living so close to him all this time and hadn't mentioned his inheritance. 

Ms. Figg smiled. "I wanted to, dear, believe me, but when my husband was killed by Death Eaters--" Harry was once again suprised, this time because she talked about the death of a loved one so calmly. "--I isolated myself from the magical community. I came here and lived as a Muggle, and one day Albus came to and said that Voldemort had met his downfall by a certain baby boy. You. He asked me to keep an eye on you and make sure you were safe." 

Harry didn't have any reply but "Oh." 

But now, he was in the spare bedroom of Ms. Figg's house, with Sirius in the next room. Sirius was being very parental, not like the old Sirius Harry knew at all. He constantly asked Harry how he was feeling, and to be truthful, it was kind of getting annoying...he'd never tell for hurting his feelings, however. 

He was actually bored--he had sent his maximum amount of letters for the weeks to Ron and Hermione, telling him of his new situation and asking them how they were, mostly. He had just received a letter from Hermione yesterday, informing him that she had become a Prefect. Her letter was joyful: 

"_H,_   
_I became a Prefect! With all the rules we break, I'd never have suspected it! Oh dear, this has so many responsibilities to accomplish, how ever will I make it through? I've already done my homework, except that I have to revise my summer essay to include this honor...maybe I should go over the Prefects Handbook that I got in Diagon Alley once more..."_

Harry also had received his letter from Hogwarts, reminding him to catch the train at King's Cross on September first and giving him a list of fifth year books. Most of his books were advanced, now, so they probably would be a lot harder to learn all of it, with the threat of Voldemort always there... 

He stared out of his window, brooding over the events of last year. He couldn't help it. He'd gotten over some of the guilt about Cedric's death--that nagging voice that reminded him it wasn't it fault worked a little bit. He still couldn't help but run through the "what ifs" through his mind. What if he hadn't been noble and just taken the Cup himself? Then Cedric would be alive, just completing his last year at Hogwarts, instead of in a box in the ground in an eternal sleep. 

Meanwhile, a knock sounded on the door. 

"Come in," Harry said, not being used to all the privacy, the Dursleys just charged in. 

Sirius poked his head in the room. "Just wanted to let you know that Bell and I are going to look at some old photos and wondered if you would join us." 

"Bell?" Harry asked. "Oh, wait, Ms. Figg--sure, I'll be right down." Sirius left, his feet echoing down the stairs. Harry gave one last glance at his window and trooped downstairs. 

He entered the living room to find Sirius and Arabella pouring over a photo album. Suddenly Ms. Figg gave a giant howl of laughter and Sirius buried his face in his hands, beet-red. "What is it?" Harry cried, rushing over to find out what could be so embarrassing for his Godfather. 

Ms. Figg, still laughing, managed to choke out, "Look--Sirius--" Harry leaned over and burst out laughing at the sight. It was Sirius at about sixteen, standing near his prized motorbike. His hair was dyed a bright pink, as was his bike, and the camera caught him in a candid moment when he obviously first saw his "new look"...his expression was torn between shock and dismay. 

"Who did that?" Harry was still chuckling. 

"Your charming father and equally charming ex-Professor," Sirius grumbled, still quite red in the face. 

Harry could only laugh harder in response. 

_***_

*** 

"Leaky Cauldron!" Harry shouted into the warm emerald flames. He felt a whirling sensation engulf him, he was spinning out of control...he tried to hold his breath, but the journey took too long and he was forced to inhale some air. Immediately he wished he hadn't, the taste of Floo Powder made him feel sick... 

Then he landed (not so suitably) on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron, in the back of the room. As he was getting up, brushing soot off his robes and trying to look halfway decent, Tom came up to him and shook his hand vigorously. "Hello, Harry, how are you?" 

"Pretty good, you?" 

"Just fine, just fine," Tom replied, beaming. At that moment, Ms. Figg tumbled out of the fireplace. 

"Damn fireplace..." she muttered, then turned to Harry and Tom. "Why, hello Tom!" she exclaimed, and they carried on a conversation not very different from the one Harry just had. To his relief, Ms. Figg didn't chat much and soon she turned to him, asking him if he was ready to go and get his school supplies. When he complied, they set off behind the pub and tapped the special brick that allowed them to Diagon Alley. 

The bright sun gleamed in the sky as wizards and witches moved here and there carrying large sacks and moneybags. Harry couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be fewer people on the streets than usual; no doubt because of Voldemort's return. They probably didn't feel safe wandering around in broad daylight. 

"Let's go to Gringotts, shall we?" Ms. Figg said. Harry nodded, and they headed off towards giant building, climbing the giant steps and entering. Ms. Figg presented them with the keys to their vaults, and a sickening cart ride later, they were at Harry's vault. Like always, he hated other people seeing his vault, seeing all his wealth...it made him more famous. So he quickly stuffed the gold, silver, and brown pieced into his bag and clambered back into the cart, where it took them to Ms. Figg's vault. Her vault was about half as full as Harry's, however, nearly every piece in there was a Galleon. 

There was an equally sickening cart ride back to the front doors, but soon enough they were standing in the bright sunshine of the street. "I need some potion ingredients. I'll go get them, and you can go into Flourish and Blotts for your new books. Stay there," Ms. Figg added sternly. Since it would take awhile to get his new schoolbooks--there were so many--Harry had no intention to wander off. 

The slightly musty bookstore made Harry think he had entered a fog. Trying his best to ignore the mist around him, he walked up to the nearest clerk and asked politely, "Where can I get _Standard Book of Spells, Year Five_?" 

The clerk turned to him and pointed to a rack of books on the far left of the store. "Right there with the other fifth year books," he grunted. 

"Thanks," Harry replied, and he walked over. He grabbed each of the ones he needed, including _Standard Book of Spells, Year Five; An Advanced Guide to Transfiguration; Defending Yourself Against the Dark Arts; _and _Unfogging the Future, Copy Two._

More selecting followed, and before he knew it, he was standing outside the door, waiting for Ms. Figg to show up. He only had to wait a minute or two and then she appeared right to his side, startling him. He sighed when it was only her and, covering up his embarrassment, said, "Where next?" 

The answer from Ms. Figg never came, for a familiar voice shouted, "Harry!" Harry turned around and saw the Weasleys all rushing over to him. "What's new?" Ron asked, being the first to reach his side. 

"Nothing much," Harry responded. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley." 

"Hello dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, looking like she could hardly restrain from hugging him. 

Another red head came running up to them, and Harry recognized it as Ginny. "Hey Ginny," he said. 

Ginny just noticed him standing there. "Oh, hi Harry," she said warmly. Harry could scarcely recognize her personality...what happened to her swooning over him and acting extremely clumsy when he was around? He couldn't say that he wasn't happy that she wasn't worshipping the ground he walked on, but it was a change. 

Everyone chattered for a minute or two, catching up on old times ("Bell! Honestly, I haven't seen you in so long!") before Ron asked impatiently, "Mum, can we go now?" 

Mrs. Weasley gave them the usual lecture on staying together and keeping out of trouble, her eyes resting on Harry for a moment and giving him a meaningful glance. She gave her okay, as did Mrs. Figg, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny were off. They happily wandered from shop to shop, getting more supplies and splurging a bit. As they were walking towards Quidditch Quality Supplies, Harry asked how the twins and their joke shop was going. 

"Some nutter gave them a thousand Galleons to invest in their shop! _One thousand Galleons_, Harry! Who in their right mind would do that?" Ron exclaimed in a kind of pride as Harry tried not to look suspicious. 

"A waste of money," came a cold, drawling voice from behind them. Harry, Ron, and Ginny whirled around to come face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. But he wasn't the only one standing there. Staring into Harry, eyes boring holes into his, stood Lucius Malfoy. 


	3. Chapter 3

bronzedragon3

**Chapter 3**

"My God, that's probably more money than your whole family has had in your entire life, Weasley," Malfoy continued. Ron's face immediately reddened but he stayed put because of Lucius Malfoy standing there. "Shame it has to go to the identical idiots." This was too much for Ron, he took a step towards Malfoy, but Ginny grabbed the back of his robes and with amazing strength, held him back.. 

Harry, meanwhile, was staring at Lucius, not taking his emerald eyes off of Lucius's gray ones. "Potter," Lucius snarled, leaning in close to Harry so no one else could hear what he was saying. "Watch your back this year--" 

"Is there a problem?" someone interrupted. Everyone turned to see Ms. Figg standing behind Harry, wearing a very forced smile. "Lucius, what are you doing here?" 

"None of your business, Figg," Lucius snapped. "Come, Draco," he said, glaring at them all before turning and walking away. Malfoy followed suit. 

"What did he say, Harry?" Ms. Figg asked, watching the Malfoys retreating backs. 

Harry shrugged. "He told me to watch my back this year, and then you came." Seeing Ginny's horrified look, he added, "Come on, Ginny, I'm always getting death threats." 

"I suppose that we need to get going," Ms. Figg proclaimed. "Do you have all of your supplies?" When they all nodded, she said, "Well then, let's go and find Arthur and Molly." 

It didn't take long, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came walking up to them, Mrs. Weasley saying furiously, "Arthur, you know you shouldn't have retaliated--" 

"I couldn't help it, Molly, whenever Lucius insults--" Mr. Weasley caught sight of the four of them and hurriedly changed the subject. "Have all of your supplies?" he asked in false cheerfulness. More nods. "Good! It's getting late, though, we should get going..." And their day at Diagon Alley was complete. 

*** 

The scarlet train gleamed as smoke poured out of it, signaling it's departure. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all rushed from their spots of talking to the Weasleys to running towards the train. They threw (the best they could) their trunks in and hastily entered. Through the window, they waved good bye to Mrs. Weasley, who waved back and then Disapparated with a small *pop*. 

It seemed like it was only yesterday to Harry when he first arrived at Ms. Figg's house and got away from the Dursleys. The one week he spent there went by fast, with Sirius's antics and Ms. Figg's love for embarrassing him with pictures of the "old days". Diagon Alley, with the exception of meeting with the Malfoys, had been a nice little reunion for Harry to see four of the Weasleys, and just today he saw the rest. Percy was bustling about, immensely proud that he had become Head of the Department of Magical Cooperation. Bill and Charlie, because of last years events, were staying at the Burrow, helping with the side of the Ministry that believed in Voldemort's rebirth. Mr. Weasley was nearly always at work with the he exception of the day at Diagon Alley. The only thing that hadn't changed was Harry's sleeping condition. He still only got about four or five hours a night, and it was coming back to haunt him: The dark shadows under his eyes were as dark as they could go, shining brightly against his skin. 

All of these things aside, Harry helped Hermione and Ron push their trunks into an empty compartment at the back of the train while easily carrying his own, thanks to the feather light charm Ms. Figg had re-put on his before he left. He tried to remember it for his friends, but with avail, so he settled for pushing them with all his might. 

"Don't you have to sit with the Prefects, Hermione?" Harry said. Hermione blushed. 

"I don't have to...anyway, I want to stay with you two." she replied. 

They all settled into their seats, with Pig hooting excitedly, trying to fly in his cage and hitting he side. Then he'd pick himself up and try again. "Shut up, Pig!" Ron shouted, swatting the cage with his hand. This only made Pig more excited, and Harry dug in his trunk. 

"Here," he said, throwing a few Owl treats at Ron, who easily caught them and gave them to Pig. Thankfully, the sticky treats caused Pig to be quiet, at least for the time being. "That was a nice catch," Harry complimented him. "Reckon you'll try out for Keeper this year? Wood's gone." 

"I might," Ron said, deep in thought. "I dunno though..." 

"You'd do a great job," Harry encouraged him, and for several minutes they were engaged in a Quidditch conversation. Hermione "humphed" and started to re-read _Hogwarts, a History._

Ron noticed this, and grinned wickedly. "Still going on about spew, Hermione?" 

Hermione reddened. "It's S-P-E-W, Ron," she said hotly. "And no, this year I've decided to take a break with it, with the O.W.L.S coming up. That's doesn't mean I'm giving up!" she said irritably, seeing Ron and Harry chuckle. 

"Right..." 

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, "Why haven't you been getting enough sleep?" 

Harry asked, "How do you know I'm not getting enough sleep?" 

"The shadows under your eyes." 

Harry sharply looked at her and said firmly, "Drop it." To his suprise, she did. 

The rest of the train ride was uneventful, unless Fred and George bursting inside their compartment counted. The twins were wearing large grins, and they confessed to have sneaked a Ferret Frog into the large stack of Chocolate Frogs that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been eating. "Whoever eats it turns into a nice little white ferret!" George exclaimed triumphantly. 

"Hope it's Malfoy," Fred said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "He makes a great ferret." 

They shared a good laugh, then exited the compartment rambling on about going to see him. Harry grinned. The money he gave the twins wasn't a waste if they got Malfoy. 

*** 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all sat down at the Gryffindor house table and awaited the Sorting and, more importantly (at least to Ron), the feast. "Hurry up," Ron moaned. "I'm so hungry I could eat a hippogriff." 

Just like last year, Nearly Headless Nick, Gryffindor ghost, reprimanded him. "The Sorting is more important than food. It determines who's going to be the newest generation of Gryffindors!" 

Ron chose not to reply, but to look up at the staff table. "Harry!" he exclaimed softly. "Look who's at the staff table!" Harry looked, and felt his eyes widen. Sitting up at the staff table between Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape sat-- 

"Fleur Delacour?" Hermione said in disbelief. "How did she get to be a teacher?" 

"Who cares how Fluer got up there?" Ron muttered, gazing at Fluer in awe. Hermione slapped him none-to-gently on the cheek. "What was that for!" Ron said angrily, giving Hermione an evil look. 

Hermione replied just as angrily, "It's Professor Delacour now, Ron! _She's a teacher!_" This seemed to get through to Ron, for he reddened in embarrassment. Harry couldn't help but note that his red face, red hair, and dark red slap mark on his face made his head look like fire. He mentioned this, laughing, and Ron grinned slightly. Harry was glad, it stopped Ron and Hermione from bickering again. 

Ignoring the tiny pit of guilt and remorse that came to him--seeing Fluer sitting up there was a reminder of the Tri Wizard Tornemount--Harry shifted his eyes to the staff table. There was another new teacher sitting there, joking with Professor Sinistra. He had short, dark brown hair and what looked like hazel eyes. He seemed enjoyable enough. "Another new Professor. Wonder what he's going to teach." Harry said. 

Before further guesses about the mysterious new staff member could go on, the doors burst open and Professor McGonagall came striding in, a line of first years trailing behind her. In her hands was a three legged stool and an old, battered hat. She set the stool down and sat the hat on it. The hat opened its brim wide and sang, 

_"A very long, long time ago_   
_Four wizards and witches made a plan_   
_To teach the art of magic_   
_Thus Hogwarts school began_

_'Twas Gryffindor, brave and noble_   
_Hufflepuff, honest and outspoken_   
_Ravenclaw, witty and fair_   
_And Slytherin--there's a cunning man!_

_They each had their own House_   
_That distinguished them from the rest_   
_That was one trait they all had in common,_   
_They all thought their House was best!_

_Soon, they began to get old and weary_   
_And one question had dawned:_   
_How to sort new students_   
_When they were all dead and gone?_

_But they did find a way,_   
_It turned out to be me!_   
_Now I can tell you all_   
_Where you need to be_

_Put me atop your head_   
_Don't worry, I don't bite!_   
_I'll assign you to a House,_   
_It'll be fun! All right?"_

The whole school broke out into thunderous applause, and the Sorting Hat seemed to take a bow. Professor McGonagall took out a long piece of parchment and said, "When I read your name, come put on the Sorting Hat and once you're Sorted, proceed to the appropriate House. Allyear, John!" A very pale, skinny boy with blonde hair shakily walked up to the Hat and tried it on. After a second's pause, the Hat screamed, "RAVENCLAW!" 

The Ravenclaws cheered, and McGonagall read on, "Azi, Rachel!" A little girl with brown pigtails happily bounded over to the Hat and eagerly place it on her head. Almost as soon as it touched her head the Hat called, "HUFFLEPUFF!" 

The Sorting proceeded with different eleven year olds trying on the Hat, each with varying degrees of nervousness on their faces. Harry could hardly believe that he was once as small as that. "Jubbs, Cedric!" Harry looked at the green-ish looking boy who sat on the stool, waiting to be Sorted. Did McGonagall just say Cedric? "GRYFFINDOR!" Yes, she did, and now he was a Gryffindor. Great, Harry thought bitterly, another reminder of last year. Just what I need. 

Soon, the Sorting was over with "Zerious, Carl" becoming a Slytherin. Professor Dumbledore stood up, and Harry noted that he looked stressed out. However, he greeted everyone with a large small and said kindly, "Dig in." 

They didn't need telling twice. Everyone managed second or third helpings of everything on the table, and they chattered idly about different things--the new teachers, their summer holidays, O.W.L.S. Hermione was in a right state over them. "They're one of the most important tests we'll ever have to take!" she said sternly when everyone blew them off. 

All to quickly, the last morsels faded off of the golden plates and the last of the pumpkin juice disappeared from the goblets, Dumbledore stood up once again. "I'd like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Delacour!" he said brightly. Fluer stood up and smiled briefly at everyone while everyone (partiularly the males) applauded loudly. "We also temporarily have a new gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor, since Hagrid is off attending some important business. May I introduce Professor Vale!" The Professor Harry had been wondering about stood up, also, and gave everyone a cheery wave before settling back down again. 

"Now, I'm very happy to announce that Quidditch practices and matches are back on." He had to stop for a moment because of thunderous cheers. He smiled and continued, "I just ask of you that all training is supervised by Madam Hooch. 

"The Forbidden Forest is strictly forbidden, especially in these dark and difficult times. I warn you that you should not go out of the castle after dark and if you simply have to, be escorted by a teacher. The security of this castle will be uplifted by several accounts. 

You all look tired, so I think it's time for bed. Off you go!" With those final words, everyone got up and started to make their way out of the Great Hall and started towards their common rooms. Hermione lagged behind, herding several first year Gryffindors out the doors and taking the lead in showing them the way. Just as Harry was starting to follow, he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He turned around and saw Dumbledore smiling at him. "Can I have a word, Harry?" Harry nodded, and they started down the opposite way on the throng, ignoring the curious looks everyone was giving them. 

They reached the stone gargoyle and Dumbledore said calmly, "Canary Creams." The gargoyle sprang aside, and they entered. Then they started walking to his large office, Harry not having a clue what they were going to talk about. 


	4. Chapter 4

bronzedragon4

**Chapter 4**

"Sit down," Dumbledore said, and Harry sat down in a big maroon armchair, and Dumbledore sat at his desk. "Harry, I'll be blunt. With the reconstruction of Lord Voldemort, you need to be very careful this year." 

"Yes, sir," Harry said, somewhat puzzled. Did he just call me up here to tell me that I need to be careful? Harry thought. Of course I'm going to be cautious, I'm his number one target! 

Dumbledore smiled slightly, sensing his thoughts. "Yes, well then, you'll understand that you need protection everywhere you go. Hopefully, you won't be angry as me. I'm going to have to ask that you be with a professor at all times when walking through the halls, as an added precaution. Also, please don't go out at night for any reason what so ever. If you feel that you have to, please come and get me or Professor McGonagall." 

Harry gaped at the old wizard. Having a professor with him--everywhere?! There went all of his freedom in a simple sentence... 

"And here is the Marauder's Map. You do realize that I only want you to use it for your own safety and nothing more. And please don't give it to anyone else, including all professors." Dumbledore reached his hand out and gave him the old, charred parchment. Harry glanced at it before safely tucking it into his robes. Dumbledore settled back for a moment, giving him the piercing stare he knew all too well. 

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Harry said, still not over the initial shock of being guarded twenty four seven. 

Dumbledore, however, leaned forward slightly in his desk and said seriously, "Harry, last year's events were a terrible thing to happen to anyone, let alone a fourteen year old boy. I realize that things might not be going well for you because of it. But I ask you if there's anything you'd like to share with me." 

"You mean like with dreams and Voldemort? I haven't had any lately." 

Dumbledore smiled. "Not with Lord Voldemort, with _you. _How are _you _coping?" 

Harry didn't know what to say. His instincts told him to keep it to himself and not to worry anyone else with his silly guilt trips. But after all, this was Dumbledore. Dumbledore wouldn't laugh at him or scold him for being paranoid. He had a silent argument with himself for a minute before looking back up at Dumbledore. "I'm doing okay, Professor." 

Dumbledore studied him for a moment and then said, "Very well." 

He stood up, as did Harry. 

"I'll walk you to your common room." 

And they set off, footsteps echoing in the darkened hallways, not speaking. Harry wasn't keen to get back up and go to bed...his nightmares were still coming strong. During the summer in Privet Drive, a couple of times he'd woken up screaming. Luckily, that didn't happen while he was staying with Ms. Figg and Sirius...but you never know what could happen. All too soon, in Harry's opinion, did they reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry looked at Dumbledore for the password, since he hadn't had a chance to get it from one of the Prefects. 

"Golden Snitch," Dumbledore supplied, and the Fat Lady swung open to reveal an empty common room. 

"G'night, Professor." Harry said. 

"Pleasant dreams, Harry," Dumbledore replied, turning around and walking off. Harry couldn't help but think, _pleasant dreams? Wonder what they're like._

Harry silently walked across the common room and up the stairs to his dormitory. He opened the door labeled, "Fifth Years," and creeped over to his bed. Quietly, so he wouldn't wake Ron, Neville, Seamus, or Dean, he opened the curtains to his bed and lay down, not bothering to take his glasses off. With all of the information he had swimming in his brain, he fell asleep immediately. 

*** 

He was running as fast as his legs would carry him. He knew resistance was useless, but he wouldn't stand a die...he would fight until he could fight no more. Behind him, he heard the cackling of the branches and twigs as the Death Eaters followed him, chasing him. 

In his haste to get away, he didn't notice a large log down on the ground. Therefore, he didn't jump over it, and soon he was laying sprawled on the ground, clutching his now sprained ankle and staring at the space before him in fear. Because there stood five Death Eaters, and that meant five billowing, black hooded robes. That meant five white masks and ten eyes staring at him...and it meant five ways of blocking escape. 

"Come, our Lord will be pleased to see you," one of them hissed, and it didn't take him long to recognize the voice of Lucius Malfoy. Lucius laughed as he trembled in fear, and grabbed his arm. His nails dug into his skin and he howled in pain, forgetting all dignity he had. Lucius roughly heaved him to his feet and waved his wand around them, and they were gone. 

When his eyesight started working properly, he found himself in the center of a circle of Death Eaters. And there, standing before him, red eyes gleaming in malice, was Voldemort. 

"M-m-master," he stuttered, dropping down to his feet and bowing clumsily. He had nightmares about this moment--when the Dark Lord finally caught up with him...and made him pay the price. 

"Get up of your feet. I shall dispose of you soon, there is no way to change my mind, so save your breath." Voldemort said softly. At the words 'dispose of you', what little color there was in his face left it. 

"M-m-my Lord, I c-c-can be of use to y-y-you," he desperately tried to spare his life. 

"Crucio!" The Dark Lord's voice rang out, and wave after wave of pain hit him full force. He was under the curse for two minutes--two minutes too long. The pressure was at last lifted, and he stared at Voldemort once again. The Dark Lord said, "You fled. I called you, and you fled. You are nothing but a traitor. You deserve this pain. Do you agree with me?" 

He said nothing. "I said, do you agree with me?" Once again, he did not answer. Voldemort's face was etched with fury and amusement. "So you do not answer me. Very well, you have served your purpose--" 

This time, he did interrupt, so he could stall him. Stall him from taking away his life. "W-w-what purpose was that, M-m-my Lord?" 

His lip less mouth curled into a smile. "To remind my loyal Death Eaters what happens to those who disobey me. Good-bye, Igor Karkaroff. _Avada Kedavra!_" 

*** 

"HARRY! HARRY, WAKE UP!" 

Harry's eyes shot open, and he found himself staring at Ron's face. His glasses were still on, so he could see properly. "Harry, what in the hell were you dreaming out? You were screaming at the top of your lungs!" Ron's freckles stood out against his pale face, and peering around his bed curtains, he found that Dean, Neville, and Seamus were all watching him cautiously. 

"What time is it?" he asked shakily. His own voice sounded weak and shaky, he could hardly recognize it. 

"3am," Ron's equally shaky voice said. _3am, _Harry thought. _It couldn't give me a break, nooo, had to go and wake up screaming like I thought I would--had to jinx it..._Still, there was something new about this dream. In all dreams before, he watched from the side the things going on. He was never seen or heard; he was just an observer. This time, he had been in Karkaroff's body--he felt the fear, the aches of the curse, the flashing of the light-- 

Harry shook his head, aware of his scar twanging on his forehead and cold sweat dripping off his brow. "Go back to sleep. It was just a nightmare." he told his roommates, and they all did, except for Ron. 

"Harry--are you sure you're okay--" Ron stammered, unsure of what to say. 

"I'm fine, Ron. Go back to sleep," he said again, and after a glance his way, Ron climbed back into his bed. 

Harry laid his had back on his pillow. His scar had stopped hurting, but the dream stayed fresh in his mind. He promised himself that he would tell Dumbledore in the morning, at breakfast. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come. But it didn't, and Harry didn't sleep a wink for the rest of the morning. 

*** 

Harry was sick of Hogwarts. 

No, he told himself, I'm not sick of Hogwarts--just the people in them. 

It had been about a week since the dream, and true to his promise, Harry told Dumbledore about what the dream contained. Dumbledore thanked Harry for telling him about it and advised him to tell him about any more dreams he had in times to come. That morning's _Daily Prophet _announced Karkaroff's death, so the dream had been accurate--not that Harry didn't expect it to be. But in that article, it of course mentioned that he had been killed by _Avada Kedavra_, the Killing Curse, and it also quoted, 

_"We also have a comment from Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, which states, 'The Death Eaters are taking advantage of the rumors about You-Know-Who being back, and in order to stop them, we must also start these ill comments. Anyone who continues to spread these rumors will be punished.'_

_Of course, famous Harry Potter continues to say that You-Know-Who is indeed back to power. What will become of him? Is Harry Potter really fit for society?"_

Those last questions caused people to break out in whispers where ever Harry went, and he was attracting even more attention with a professor escorting him everywhere. Several times, Snape had to take him to his next class, and that proved more time to take points off of Gryffindor. He was still as awful to Harry as he was any other year, and it didn't help Harry with his spirits. 

To top it all off, his nightmares were still coming strong, and the were getting more and more detailed. The shadows under his eyes were almost the color of black ink, and it took all of his willpower not to drop off in class. Professor McGonagall had taken him aside one day and point blank asked him why wasn't he getting enough sleep. He felt that she knew, but didn't want to voice her opinion in fear of upsetting him. 

He managed to avoid the question because at that precise moment, the bell had rung and Harry rushed out of the classroom with Hermione and Ron in tow. McGonagall didn't question him anymore, but her hard-core expression seemed to soften whenever she looked at him in class...once, when Harry's eye were half shut and his head was resting on his hands while she was lecturing, he had accidentally dozed. He woke up to find McGonagall shaking him, and she didn't give him detention or take any points away from Gryffindor--she simply asked him to stay awake. 

Now he was in Potions, and once again he was on the brink of falling asleep. Snape was going on about some Japanese potion that enabled you to shrink and enlarge yourself. Hermione was scribbling notes while Ron was doodling on his paper. Harry's eyes slowly shut and he was on the brink of drifting into an actual sleep... 

"POTTER!" 

Snape's furious shouts snapped Harry from his revive. He shook himself awake and looked at Snape, who's face was livid. He braced himself for the fifty or so points Snape was about to take off from Gryffindor. 

"Hospital Wing," Snape ordered him. Harry blinked, not sure if he heard correctly. "Now, Potter, Hospital Wing." he repeated. 

"But Professor--" Harry started to protest. 

"Hospital Wing or detention at midnight tonight," Snape said, his voice somewhat--concerned? Harry weighed his options. Madam Pomfrey fussing over him, or having a detention in the middle of the night, where he was likely to fall asleep and get another one. He made his decision and silently gathered up his belongings, then walked out of the dungeon. 

As he was walking, he pondered over why Snape would be so--nice--to him. Not figuring out an answer, he sighed and found himself in front of the Hospital Wing door. He entered the Wing and told Madam Pomfrey the situation...that he had been in Potions and Snape simply ordered him to come here. Madam Pomfrey "tut tutted" and rummaged around in her cabinets, then came back out with a steaming goblet. "Climb into bed and drink this," she said sternly. 

Harry did as he was told and drank the purple liquid, soon discovering that it was a dreamless sleep potion. The effects, like last year, were instant. He fell asleep, soundly for the first time in months. 


	5. Chapter 5

bronzedragon5

**Chapter 5**

When Harry awoke, it took him a moment to realize where he was and how he got there. Feeling oddly refreshed, he swung his legs over the Infirmary bed and started to walk to the door. 

"Oh no you don't, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey's voice rang out. "You have been asleep for about twenty four hours, and your body is not ready for so much action after such a long sleep--" 

"Twenty four hours?!" Harry gasped. 

Madam Pomfrey walked over to him and managed a small smile. "Yes, twenty four hours. Now lay back in bed or I'll be forced to keep you in here longer." Harry reluctantly climbed back into his bed but refused to lay down. "Just sit tight," Madam Pomfrey told him firmly, and she walked away. 

Harry gazed around the Wing for a moment and wondered how long he would have to stay here. Then he remembered that Snape had sent him here. Why Snape? Where did he find, in his dislike--no, make that hatred--of Harry, to send him to the Wing? 

"Good afternoon, Harry." a voice from the shadows said, and Harry turned his head to see a smiling Dumbledore. 

"Er--good afternoon," Harry replied, caught off guard. Dumbledore came and sat on the edge of his bed and Harry asked bluntly, "Was I really in here for a day?" 

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed you were." After a moment of silence, he added, "The Professors have informed me that you have been nodding off in class." 

"It won't happen again," Harry said sheepishly. He knew that Dumbledore was trying to get him to open up and confess the guilt on his conciounce, but he didn't feel like doing it just now. 

Dumbledore, of course, saw right through him, but he merely said, "Very well." He reached a hand into his robes and handed Harry a small brown pouch. Puzzled, Harry stared at it. "It's a Sleeping Draught. It is not as strong as a dreamless sleep potion, as you might be aware, but it does allow you to sleep peacefully." he explained. 

Harry opened the strings to see a fine yellow powder. "Just add water to a small amount--and I stress the word small--in a goblet and drink directly. You will be able to sleep peacefully..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off, and his expression became serious. "If you ever need to tell me anything, Harry, I'm always here." 

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Dumbledore strode from the Wing and left, leaving him pondering over his last statement. 

*** 

About two weeks before Halloween, Katie Bell came up to Harry during breakfast in the Great Hall. "McGonagall wants to see us all before classes today. We have to elect a new Captain for the Quidditch team and find a new Keeper," she said, grinning as she talked about her favorite sport. Harry, who was just as excited as she was, if not more, nodded eagerly and stood up. 

"I'm going now. You?" 

"Sure," Katie replied, and together the left breakfast and walked across the many halls and up a staircase to McGonagall's office. She knocked and without waiting for an answer, pushed the door open and entered. Harry saw the fellow members of the team: Angelina and Alicia (Chasers along with Katie) plus Fred and George (Beaters). 

McGonagall was sitting behind her desk and she said briskly, "Good, you're all here. Now, Oliver Wood left and he was Captain and Keeper. We'll deal with the Keeper business later, but before any matches, you need a Captain. The Captain has to have leadership qualities, does not mind the responsibilty of managing practices, and is overall a good player. Any nominations?" 

No one offered anyone for a moment. Angelina finally said, "How about Harry?" 

Harry was stunned. "Me? No, I couldn't--" 

"It makes sense, Harry. We all have N.E.W.T.S this year so we won't have a lot of time. You have the O.W.L.S, but they're not as excruciating as ours. We'll also be graduating this year. If you're Captain, you have all this year to train he new Keeper and next year to find a new team." Katie protested. 

Harry thought about it and secretly agreed, but he said, "I don't think--I'm not as experienced as you all--I'm only a fifth year--" 

"So? Wood was Captain when he was fifth year," George interupted. "Come on, Harry," he continued impatiently, "Just accept it. It's _Quidditch Captain!_ It's a high honor!" 

Yes, Harry thought, it's a high honor. That's why I don't want to take it...more fame...he could imagine Ron's fake cheerfulness and jealously... 

"Your desicion, 'O honorable Seeker?" Fred said, mock-bowing. 

Harry gave in and said, "Okay, okay! I'll be Captain." 

McGonagall, who had been silent through the whole ordeal, gave her own thin-lipped smile. "I hope you will lead us to another victory for the Cup, Potter. Stay after a moment and see me; the rest of you are dismissed." Everyone filed out of the room, clapping their hands on his back and congradulating him while he sat, a big grin on his face. He ignored what would become of his desicion, right now he was just happy--after all, he was Quidditch _Captain!___

"Right then," McGonagall said, facing Harry once more. "Here is a list of reponsibilities that you must fufill. Tryouts for Keeper will commerce on the date you and the rest of the team decide. You will have to put the notice up in the Gryffindor common room..." She went on and on, explaining everything that he needed to know. Harry hardly listened, he was too busy imagining winning the Cup again at the end of the year--everyone would be proud of him for leading the team to victory--they would all praise him--and a certain face stood out in the crowd, shining with admiration. This figure had no face, it was too blurred with people jostling her, but she had fiery red hair... 

"Potter? Harry--you can leave now," McGonagall cut through his daydream. Harry shook himself, thanked her, and walked from the room. He looked at his watch (which he had fixed during his time at the Dursleys) and saw that he could go back to the Great Hall--breakfast still had about ten minutes before it was over. 

So he walked back down the stairs and hallways to the giant doors of the Great Hall, which he opened and started walking to the Gryffindor table. Immediatley upon seeing him, the table broke into cheers. The team must have already told them all the great news. Everyone wanted to shake his hand and personally congradulate him. Harry couldn't help but be amazed--yesterday they all though he was unstable, now they were acting like he was their hero. The Creevey brothers swarmed around Harry like dogs and begged to know when the tryouts were, how it felt to be Captain, what he would do next. 

"We'll win with Harry as Captain!" Colin shouted, and Dennis backed him up with a triumphant, "Yeah!" 

With heat rising to his face, Harry spotted Ron and Hermione talking near the end of the table. He quickly walked over and took a seat by Ron. "Hi." 

"Harry! Is it true? You're Quidditch Captain?" Hermione asked in excitment. Harry nodded. "Oh this is so much responsibilty! With our O.W.L.S this year plus Quidditch, you're going to have so much work! How will you ever get it all done?" she gushed. Seeing Harry's annoyed look, she added, "And way to go, it's quite a respectable position." 

Harry diverted his attention over to Ron. He hadn't said anything yet, and Harry was starting to think that it was going to be another fight like last year. He tapped Ron on the shoulder to indicate his presense there and said (a little nervously), "Hey Ron." 

Ron turned his head and to Harry's relief wore a grin. "You big git, you're Quiddicth Captain! This is great--Fred and George came bursting in here shouting something about you and Quidditch, then the girls came in and told us the whole story--how could you have even tried to refuse?" he went on. 

To put it mildly, Gryffindor was happy that day. 

*** 

Halloween started out like any other day. The house elves made a splendid breakfast, and classes were the same as always--the professors were getting them prepared for the O.W.L.S, so there was a lot of homework. Potions was, as usual, unbearable: Neville's Sickening Sweet Solution was a bright neon orange instead of the supposed to be purple, and Gryffindor lost fifteen points for it. 

Professor Delacour's class, up until that point, had been reviewing the history of the Dark Arts, and to be honest it was almost worst than History of Magic. The boys couldn't stop drooling over her, Ron included. In fact, the only people who weren't charmed by her beauty were Harry (he couldn't block out the painful memories) and the girls. But on Halloween, there was a different lesson. 

"I have brought anozzer Boggart for you all to face," she declared. "You vill go into the next room and face it alone. If you need help, call for azzitance." 

Everyone went in one at a time and emerged triumphant. Neville's was particularly long, he took ten minutes to come back, but never the less he had conquered it. Harry sat in the lesson thinking what his would turn into--it certainly wouldn't be a Boggart anymore. As Ron's name was called, he realized the sickening truth--it would be Voldemort. 

Image or no image, Harry wasn't in the mood to see him again...those red eyes gleaming, nostrils flaring... 

"Harry Potter," Fluer called out, and he shakily got to his feet and entered the room. When he opened the door he braced himself for Voldemort...and when he saw what was standing there, the door suddenly closed behind him and he gasped. It wasn't Voldemort, like he thought. 

He was facing his parents. 

Harry saw his mother with her bright green eyes and flaming red hair. He saw his father with messy black hair and glasses. They were standing together, holding hands. They paid no notice of Harry, who was watching them in amazement. Leaning forward, they kissed. 

He didn't know how long he stood there, silenting watching them. He didn't care. He just didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay there forever... 

"Harry? Are you all right?" Fluer's voice sang into the room. It was flooded with light, and his parents suddenly dissappeared. Instead, Harry found himself facing Fluer. "Come on," Fluer said gently, and she led him out of the room. He took his seat between Ron and Hermione and tried to stop shaking. 

"Harry? You don't look so good. You're all pale..." Hermione's voice trailed off as the professor started talking, assigning them their homework. She dismissed them, and before anyone could ask, Harry jumped out of his seat. Then they left, heading down for the Great Hall to have dinner. They didn't talk to each other...Ron and Hermione had the feeling that he didn't want to talk, and Harry was grateful for it. 

There was a giant crowd in front of the doors, but no one was moving. No one was talking, either. Even the professors were silent. They were all staring up at the ceiling. The trio looked up at the enchanted ceiling, too, and saw a gaint message printed in red. It said: 

**Fifteen years ago I killed Lily and James Potter. Harry Potter is next.**

Suddenly, two figures appeared in the center of the hall. Harry immediatley recognized the same kinds of "echoes" he saw when Voldemort's wand connected with his own. He also recognized who they were--he just saw them no less than five minutes ago. It was the echoes of Lily and James Potter once again. 

They stood staring at the group in front of them, not making a sound. Without warning, they burst into flames and no one could see anything because of a thick smoke around them. When the smoke cleared, they were gone. 


	6. Chapter 6

bronzedragon6

**Chapter 6**

Harry stared up at the ceiling. It was hard to think that it had been four days since he last saw his parents--bursting into flames. The memories were as sharp as yesterday... 

Hermione and Ron, along with almost every other student, turned and stared at Harry. Hermione's eyes filled with tears, yet she struggled to hold them back. "Harry..." she said quietly. 

He didn't stick around for her sympathy. In an instant, he turned around and walked in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, uncomfortably aware that every pair of eyes were on him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron and Hermione exchange glances and then follow him. They didn't speak until they were back in the common room, and Harry collapsed in a chair. "Why?" he asked quietly. 

"Why what, Harry?" Ron asked, freckles standing out on his pale skin. 

"Why me?" he said softly. "Why am I the one who had to have their parents killed? Why am I the one Voldemort is after? Why am I the one he wants dead?" An eerie silence followed, and Hermione and Ron didn't answer. Frustrated, Harry stood up and made his was up to the dormitory and closed the hangings around his bed. No one bothered him that night. 

But that was the past. Now Harry was listening to a storm raging outside, ignoring Ron and the others getting up and ready for classes. 

"Harry! Come on, it's time for breakfast!" Ron called. He ripped open the curtains and rubbed his stomach for emphasis. "I'm starving." Reluctantly, Harry climbed out of bed and put on his robes. It had been another sleepless night, and he was sluggish and tired. 

Still yawning, they met up with Hermione in the common room and went down to breakfast. Harry only picked around his plate, he wasn't very hungry. He saw Hermione and Ron shoot each other another worried glance, as they had been for the past week, and he couldn't help but feel annoyed. 

"Look, you guys can quit giving each other those what-can-we-do looks already--" he started impatiently, but was interrupted by the owls flying in with letters in their talons. Hedwig was easy to spot among them, and he smiled when she landed next to him and held out her leg. He had written Sirius again, asking how everything was going, and was happy to have an answer. He carefully untied it from her leg and read it silently, 

_H,_   
_I'm just fine, don't worry about me. I want to know how you're doing. D told me about sleeping in the Wing, are they really that bad? Go to D, ask for some sleeping draught or something. Right now, I won't take no for an answer. Your safety and health are my number one priorities._   
_Meanwhile, Re and I are still making plans. Can you be in front of the Gryffindor fire again at midnight on November 15? We need to talk. Bring R and H, too._   
_S_

Harry's smile grew bigger. He would get to see Sirius in about a week! He whispered the news to Hermione and Ron. Ron looked excited to see Sirius, like Harry, but Hermione looked worried. "Snuffles wouldn't just come to chat, would he? There must be something important he has to tell us!" she said anxiously. Her words put a damper on their moods. 

"Thanks for bringing it up," Ron said grumpily. 

"Honestly, Ron, I thought you would have thought about it!" Hermione snapped. 

Ron turned red. "Well, excuse me, Miss Know It All." 

"I'm not a Know It All! I'm just smart enough to realize that in these times there's almost no good news!" Hermione said darkly. 

Harry groaned, another argument had surfaced between Ron and Hermione. They had been good about not arguing in front of him lately, but he should have known that it wouldn't last. Sighing, he pushed his goblet towards Hedwig, who drank gratefully and flew off to the Owlery. 

"Guys!" he said loudly, causing almost half the table to look at him. He lowered his voice. "Guys, look, it's time for History of Magic. We should get going." Ron shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth and they set off. 

*** 

Later that day as they were heading towards Care of Magical Creatures, Harry's mind felt like a sponge. In Potions, Snape had given a suprise pop quiz, and when he came to Harry, he eyed his potion and marked what suspiciously looked like a zero. 

Transfiguration, which they had just come from, was by far the hardest class of the day, in Harry's opinion. McGonagall had talked about human transfiguration through complex spells and incantations. Harry almost feel asleep again, and Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs. 

"These are some of the things your dad and Sirius had to learn to become Animagi!" she whispered when McGonagall's back was turned. Harry gave a sigh and started to pay attention again, but it was too late. McGonagall was already instructing them to perform the first set of spells, and it went downwards from there. He wound up having ten points taken away from Gryffindor and a stern lecture from McGonagall. 

"Harry!" Ron said, snapping him from his thoughts of the day. "Come on, let's go see what new insults the Slytherins have thought for us--we have it with them again. Maybe I'll get to throw a punch at Malfoy, eh?" 

Harry smiled slightly and greeted Professor Vale, who was beaming at them all. 

"Got some interesting creatures for you today," he said cheerfully. Hermione gave a start, in Hagrid's dictionary, the word 'interesting' meant 'dangerous', and they all assumed Hagrid told him what "things" to present. Meanwhile, Vale pointed to a section of the large yard which was fenced in. "Go on up and see what you think!" 

Cautiously, they made their way forward. Harry took a deep breath and looked over the fence--and found himself looking at cats. 

He did a double take, and then realized that they weren't cats. They had the same body structure as cats, and they were quite furry, but no cat had that long of a tail--it must have been two feet (and all of them were currently up in the air, swishing around). But there was one major attribute that set them apart from any other animal, even magical ones: there was a large stone set in the center of their foreheads. 

The creatures suddenly started making peculiar noises, not unlike a bird's calls. Only these were much louder. Everyone covered their ears with their hands and shouted, "Shut them up!" 

Vale rushed up and brought with them a large bag. He reached his hand in and pulled out Snitch-sized brown balls and threw them over everyone's heads and into the fence. The--creatures--stopped screeching and gobbled them up. Everyone slowly took their hands off their ears and sighed in relief. There was silence for a moment, then broken by Lavender. 

"What are those?" 

Malfoy brushed some imaginary dirt off his robes and said hauntily, "They're mangy and foul Phallins, that's what they are." 

Hermione instantly brightened and whispered, "They're harmless!" 

Vale laughed. "Yes--" he checked his roll "Miss Granger, they are harmless. They're a common pet for most wizarding families, and go back to the ancient times when Hogwarts was first founded. In fact, it is said that Helga Hufflepuff had one herself named Knealze." He smiled brightly. 

"There's an old tale spinning around that Phallins are companions to the bronze dragons. The bronze dragon is said to be very dangerous if provoked, or if they do not trust you. However, if you gain their trust, then it will lead you out of harm's way--and I'm sure you figured out that a bronze dragon always guards something magnificent or of great importance. There are only supposedly five bronze dragons in the world to this date. 

"See those stones on the Phallin's heads? That is the way a bronze dragon can tell if you have a pure heart. If the stone turns red, then you're a threat. If you ever encounter one with a dragon, you want it to turn green, for green is the color of loyalty and good." 

Malfoy yawned loudly and said not-so-quietly, "If I wanted to learn History of Creatures I'd go to Binns." Vale's smile only faded slightly, and he acted like he didn't hear Malfoy, instructing them to each hold a Phallin and play with it for the day. He explained that they needed exercise from being cooped up all day. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all picked up a random Phallin. Hermione was cuddling hers, and it was making a strange bird-like hum. Ron set his eager one down and it ran circles around him, obviously trying to catch its tail. Harry was lucky, his curled up into a ball at his feet and fell asleep. 

Ron suddenly started laughing and hastily tried to change it into a hacking cough. He slightly pointed his finger in the direction of Malfoy, and Harry plus Hermione turned around to see Malfoy's Phallin licking him energetically on the face, much to his protests. "Oh, I wish I had a camera," Ron moaned. "This is better than a Ferret Frog any day!" 

*** 

The next afternoon and lunch, the rain was still coming down strong. The ceiling covering the Great Hall was constantly dark; extra charms had to be put up just for everyone to see their hands in front of them. It didn't match Harry's mood at all, thanks to the Sleeping Draught (which kept filling itself back up when it got used), he had a good night's sleep. 

While Ron was shoveling food into his mouth at top speed and Harry was talking about Ferret Frogs to Fred and George, Hermione pulled out some crumpled parchment from her bag. "What's that?" Harry asked, curious. 

"Oh, it's the _Daily Prophet_. I didn't have time to read it this morning," Hermione said briskly, unfolding the paper. She scanned the first page and paled considerably. Then she started to cry nosily. 

"Hermione? What's in the paper?" Ron asked concertedly. He gently pried it away from her hands and read the article. He, too, paled and put a comforting arm around her shoulder, mummering, "It'll be okay...shh..." 

By now, Harry was itching to know what was awful. He snatched the forgotten paper up and read: 

**_Dark Mark Appears Again! Is it the work of You-Know-Who?_**

_This morning, the Dark Mark was found hovering over a 1289 Pitlock Avenue. The main occupants managed to escape the house unharmed, but one suffered the dreaded Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra. The unlucky resident was later identified as Sabrina Granger, daughter of Mark and Ellen Granger._

Harry stopped reading the article. He didn't need to read the rest, the answer of Hermione's trauma was in the first paragraph. 

Her sister had been murdered. 


	7. Chapter 7

bronzedragon7

**Chapter 7**

Harry's shock wore off rather quickly, replaced by anger. _Damn you Voldemort, _he thought angrily. _Why Hermione's sister? Why did she have to die? Why do you have to be so cruel? _It seemed lately that Harry's world was focused on the word "why". 

Then his anger turned to guilt. Voldemort knew who his friends were, Pettigrew told them, no doubt. So Voldemort knew by hurting one of Harry's friends, he would hurt Harry. And Harry was the reason Sabrina was dead. 

Harry turned to Hermione, who was still crying. His throat constricted, all he could do was pat her gently on the back. By now, everyone was staring at the Gryffindor table, and more importantly, Hermione. Dumbledore himself came down from the staff table and asked what was wrong. Harry silently handed him the paper, and his expression turned grave. He held out his hand to Hermione, who hesitantly took it, and they walked out of the Great Hall, Hermione still sobbing. 

A silence like no other was around the Great Hall, broken by McGonagall's chair scraping the floor as she, too, got up and followed the path out of the Great Hall. Snape followed suite. Harry and Ron immediately stood up and followed them. At the door, Snape turned around and ordered them to stay there. 

"No," Harry and Ron said in unison. 

Snape's eyes flashed. "What did you say?" he asked, voice dangerously low. The Great Hall was staring at Ron and Harry in awe. 

"We said no," Harry replied, voice just as low. "Hermione's our friend, and we're not going to abandon her when she's upset. Especially now." 

"And what does 'especially now' mean, Potter?" Snape hissed. 

Harry had a sense of calmness and authority that he'd never felt before. He felt strangely adult. "Here is not the place to discuss it." Snape looked murderous, but he turned on his heel and stalked out of the Great Hall. Knowing they'd won, Harry and Ron followed. No one spoke until the four were out of the hall. 

They started the familiar path to Dumbledore's office. When they came to the gargoyle, Snape said (somewhat sneering), "Canary Creams." and it swung open. Ron, despite his worry, looked amused and amazed--it was then that Harry realized he'd never been to Dumbledore's office before. He was also probably suprised that Dumbledore knew about his brother's inventions--then again, Dumbledore knew everything that was going on in Hogwarts at any given time. 

A few minutes later, they knocked on the door and Dumbledore called, "Come in,". They entered to see Hermione sitting down in am armchair. She stopped sobbing, but tears still flowed freely down her cheeks. Harry and Ron rushed to her side. Hermione hugged Ron tightly and he blushed to the roots of his hair, but he never the less hugged her back. Hermione then let go and hugged Harry, but he didn't turn red--he turned blue. When she finally released him, he took a gasp for air. 

"Sorry," Hermione said sadly. "It's just--Sabrina--" she broke down in sobs once more. 

Snape and McGonagall stood awkwardly at the door with confused expressions on their faces. Dumbledore motioned them over and quietly told them what happened. McGonagall's expression softened, but Snape's face remained expressionless and without emotion. 

"Why didn't anyone tell me at breakfast? Why didn't they tell me my sister was--was--dead!" Hermione choked out from against her position on Ron's shoulder. Harry frowned, he couldn't figure it out either, and by the looks on Ron's face, he was just as clue less. 

Dumbledore stroked his chin thoughtfully, then looked down at the paper in his hands. He said, "The date on this paper is November 15, Hermione. Tomorrow. I think the press may have given the owl tomorrow's paper and he flew off with it, not knowing the date, since they didn't tell him to stay." 

Hermione continued to sob, and everyone offered her their apologies and sympathy for the next half hour. Dumbledore told her firmly, "You are excused from classes until you feel like attending. I will contact you when I hear of the funeral arrangements. If you wish, Harry and Ron may go as well; however, it is up to you." 

He continued softly, "I know this is hard for you, and it shows that Voldemort is, as we know, pure evil. But good will always prevail over evil, and you can hold your head high knowing that Sabrina's death was not in vain. In fact, something can be accomplished from it." 

Ron raised an eyebrow, and he explained, "At the end of the article it shows that witnesses told them of a man with a pale, skull-like appearance and red eyes. All of their memories were wiped--except for your parents, Hermione--but this is vital information for Cornelius. Even if he does not heed our words, we will have gained supporters." 

Hermione sniffed and nodded, then asked if she could go back to her dormitory--she was suddenly very tired. Dumbledore replied, "Of course," and had Ron escort her there. Harry would have gone, too, but he had to ask Dumbledore a question. Dumbledore sensed this and politely suggested the McGonagall and Snape had classes to teach, and to Harry's relief, they left. 

"Professor? Why didn't my scar hurt when Voldemort killed Sabrina?" Harry said suddenly, his question wanting to spill from his lips as soon as he heard the news. 

Dumbledore didn't answer for a moment, looking out of the window in thought. When he spoke again, Harry was alarmed to hear hatred in his voice. "Your scar, Harry, most likely alerts you when Voldemort is feeling anger, frustration, or murderous. It is possible that he did not feel these things when he murdered Sabrina. Perhaps he was--amused," he added, bitter reality in his words. 

That was cruel, Harry reflected. Exactly what something Voldemort would feel. "Thank you, sir. I think I'm going to go and--er--comfort Hermione." Dumbledore nodded, and he left the office, his brain trying to soak in the new information. 

*** 

The next evening, the shock of Sabrina's death was still not gone. The rest of the school got the paper in the morning, and most expressed sympathy to Hermione--all but the Slytherins, that is. Harry and Ron had to put up with Malfoy's teasing of the "Mudblood's dead sister" all day, and most of the time Harry had to keep a hold on Ron's robes so he couldn't jump Malfoy and wipe the smirk off his face. Ginny aided Harry whenever they passed in the corridors, but when they had adjoined classes, it was all up to Harry. 

Hermione stayed shut up in her dormitory all day and didn't come down, not even for meals. Ron got concerned at her not eating and suggested that they go to the house elves and get some food for her during lunch, and Harry readily agreed. They walked the path to the kitchens and Harry was almost knocked down by Dobby fiercely hugging him as soon as they'd opened the portrait. Dobby also updated them on house elf news. Turns out that Winky had gotten over the stress of the Crouch's and was now helping Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary. 

There was another piece of news, something that made Harry and Ron almost break into laughter, despite their worries. Dobby motioned them to lean forward and whispered into their ears, "Dobby has a--a mate, sirs!" 

"A--mate?" Ron said, eyes growing wide. "You mean--you've got a wife?" 

Dobby nodded, ears flapping. "Her name is Tinker, sirs, and they work in the kitchens together! Dobby wishes you could meet her, but she's doing laundry for the Junior sirs and misses." 

"Maybe some other time," Harry said, trying to keep a straight face and was genuinely disappointed. They then got Hermione's food and brought it up to her dormitory, where she refused to come out. After ten minutes of coaxing, they left the tray outside the door and went off to their classes, seeing that Hermione was relentless. 

As soon as their classes were over, they rushed back to her dormitory and to their relief, the tray was not there anymore. _At least Hermione is eating, _Harry thought, slightly cheerful. His moods were lifted even further when Hermione let them in and had a coherent conversation with them, and she didn't even cry. When Ron asked her to play a game of chess, Harry held baited breath. If Hermione was slowly getting past the grief, she would be delighted to try and beat Ron. 

"Well..." Hermione said hesitantly. "I guess I will." And they played. Ron beat her, like always, although not by much. Whether Hermione's skills had improved or Ron was trying to cheer her up even further by not winning by as much as he usually did, Harry doubted he would ever find out. Once the board was cleared away, there was a lull of silence. 

"So, what did you do up here all day? Homework?" Ron teased gently. 

Hermione smiled thinly. "Actually, I only did the ten inch essay for Snape. The rest of the time I was looking at this," she pulled out a large, leather bound book and opened it. The pictures were taken by a Muggle, none of them moved. She flipped through the pages until she came to one with a single large photo pasted in the center. 

It was a girl, and she had brown hair like Hermione, although it was a totally different texture. Instead of being bushy, it was sleek and shiny, laying perfectly straight down her back. She had hazel eyes that were shining in such a way that made Harry think it was the happiest day of her life. She wasn't thin, she was built, but you couldn't call her overweight. Under the picture, there was a scrawled message, _"August 10, birthday celebration"_. 

It was Sabrina. 

Hermione said softly, "It was taken just a few months ago, after her birthday party. It wasn't much, just the family and cake and presents, but she thought it was the best thing in the world. Most girls wanted glamorous 'sweet sixteen' parties, but all Sabrina wanted was a nice day at home." Her voice quavered. 

"Yeah, she seemed like a great person. Like you," Ron supplied. His tone held a serious, determined note to it. "Don't worry, Hermione, we'll make You-Know-Who pay." 

He blushed, having realized what he said, and dropped his gaze back to the photo album. Hermione, however, started to cry. "That's the sweetest thing--" she sobbed, throwing her arms around Ron's neck again. If Ron was red before, he was tomato-red now. 

Harry glanced at his watch. "Er--it's ten o'clock now. Shouldn't we go wait for Sir--Snuffles?" he asked. 

"Two hours to wait?" Hermione said teasingly. "A little anxious, are we?" 

Harry grinned good naturedly. "I haven't seen him since he left from the Hospital Wing." Hermione gently closed her book and set it on the table beside her four-poster, then got up to descend to the common room. 

"Hey, why aren't Patvati, Lavender, and whoever else you share this dormitory with up here yet?" Ron asked, struck by the sudden thought. 

Hermione laughed. "Parvati and Lavender, inside their dormitory on a Friday night? Are you mad?" 

*** 

At twelve midnight, the common room was clear and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all sitting in front of the fire, not talking much. They were all anxious to see Sirius, and what news he would bring. Thankfully, everyone went to bed early that night (or in Parvati and Lavender's case, still out and wouldn't be back for hours). 

"He's late," Harry said suddenly. 

Ron sighed. "Harry, it's only twelve-oh-one. Relax. I swear, you're getting worse than Percy." 

"No, I'm not, and now it's twelve-oh-two," Harry retorted. "What if something happened to him?" he asked, face full of worry. 

"I would like to think that I was capable of taking care of myself," came a voice from beside them. They turned around and saw Sirius's head in the flames. Hermione gasped, hand flying to her mouth. 

Sirius grinned. "I know I look good, but I didn't know I still had the charm to make ladies gasp!" Hermione sputtered, unable to think of an answer, while Harry chuckled and Ron sniggered. His face took on a serious look, and he asked, "How are you, Hermione?" 

She avoided his eyes when she said, "Fine," and acted as though she wanted to change the subject. Sirius, receiving her silent plea, turned to Harry and Ron. 

"How're you two? Not getting into too much trouble, are you?" 

Ron frowned. "You're as bad as mum," he complained. He mimicked his mother's voice. _"If you get into trouble this year, I will personally come up to the school to watch you day and night to make sure you don't do anything dangerous again. I swear, if you put together all the things you and Harry and Hermione have done--"___

Sirius laughed, then his expression became somber once more. "Well, these are dark times. Which brings me to my question." He paused for a moment, then asked them something that Harry, Ron, and Hermione never expected. 

"Will you three join the Order of the Phoenix?" 


	8. Chapter 8

bronzedragon8 

**Chapter 8**

They stared at him, dumbstruck. 

"Before you give me your answer, let me tell you some information about the Order. It's a league against Voldemort, basically, the opposite of Voldemort's Death Eaters. We try to stay one step ahead of his terror and stop him from gaining power. It goes back since his first days in power," Sirius said, face grim. 

"And we can join?" Hermione asked, breathless. 

"Well, you have to be put in an ancient incantation to make sure your heart is pure. But yes, if you accept the offer and go through the process flawless, you can join." 

Ron, his face tense with thought, interrupted, "What's the incantation?" 

Sirius shook his head, causing some ashes from the flames to flicker out. "I can't tell you. That's part of the process--you can't know what's coming, so you can't prepare. That way, we can be absolutly sure you didn't put a spell on yourself to--er--help you along the way." 

"This is such an honor..." Hermione gushed. 

Harry nodded. He knew exactly what to answer. "I'll join," he said with hesitation. 

Sirius turned his head to face him. "You're sure? You know what is at risk?" 

"I know, Sirius. And I want to help anyway I can," he replied. 

"I'm joining. For Sabrina," Hermione said softly, bowing her head slightly. 

Ron put a hand on her shoulder. "So am I," he said. 

Sirius seemed disappointed in their answer. "You know your lives will constantly be in danger," he said, a note of plea in his voice. 

"What else is new?" Harry asked. 

"This is ridiculous!" Sirius exclaimed. "You're all just fifteen! You're too young to be in this! I wouldn't have let you join, or even have the chance! Dumbledore is mad for letting you try! You're all--well, you're all just fifteen!" 

Harry felt a surge of anger flare up inside him, and he struggled to control it as he replied, "Sirius, I'm fifteen. I survived _Avada Kedavra_ when I was one, spent ten years being a punching bag, discovered I was a wizard and entered a whole new world, survived the spirit of the Dark Lord through a professor, survived an encounter with a sixteen-year-old memory of Tom Riddle, realized my best friend's rat was really the man who betrayed my parents and discovered I had a Godfather, and then managed to escape a Voldemort who just got his body back. Don't tell me 'I'm only fifteen'." 

Sirius was rendered speechless for a moment, then regained his composure and said seriously, "More the reason for you not to join! You're his number one target!" 

"Who else has a connection to him like this?" Harry gestured to his scar. "_I can save lives,_" he said slowly, making sure they heard every word. "And I'm going to help however I can." 

"You shouldn't be saving lives! People should try and save yours!" Sirius yelled, clearly frustrated beyond belief, concerned about his Godson's safety. 

Harry yelled, "I'm not going to have everyone die for me! My parents and Cedric already did it, and it won't happen again!" 

Silence echoed after his outburst, and even he was suprised at what he had to say. Then without another word, he turned around and ran up to his dormitory, where he didn't speak to anyone the rest of the night. 

*** 

Weeks passed uneventfully. Voldemort seemed to be taking a "break", which made Harry even more anxious for news. Furthermore, his conversation with Sirius made Ron and Hermione extremly--nervous--around him, and it was only mentioned when Hermione asked them when they thought they'd have to perform the initiation. Harry snapped that he didn't know, and the conversation was never brought up again. 

Soon, though, Harry felt guilty for the way he'd treated his Godfather. _I shouldn't have been so hard on him, he was just worried about me, _he thought. To make up for it, he wrote Sirius a lengthy apology, which took up a foot of parchment. When he was done, he knew he'd overdone it, but he didn't care. Sirius was the closet thing he'd ever had to a father and he didn't want to hurt him. 

Not receiving an answer yet, Harry was starting to think that Sirius was so angry with him he didn't want anything to do with him, and he grew depressed. Ron and Hermione knew it, too, so when the first Hogsmeade weekend came up, they forced him to go. 

"You need the fresh air," Hermione insisted. 

"You also need to buy us Christmas presents," Ron grinned. 

Harry finally gave in and allowed himself to go. He tried to ignore the stares of the teachers, watching him closely, and he even caught himself enjoying the day away from the castle. They entertained themselves by going into Three Broomsticks and having a butterbeer to warm themselves up (the beginning of December was very cold). When they emerged, Harry said he needed new robes (his now stopped at the ankle), so they went into Gladrags Wizardwear. 

"You're still short," Ron teased, who still out-grew him. 

Harry rolled his eyes. "I prefer vertically challenged," he retorted. Ron snorted. 

"Okay, okay," he said, still chuckling. "But I'm gonna go buy some--er--stuff. I'll meet you in front of that jewelry store in about thirty minutes." They agreed, and Ron left. 

Once Harry had gotten his robes, him and Hermione looked at jewelry for awhile, chatting idly. Forty Five minutes later, Ron met them in front of the store. 

Hermione pointed out, "You're late." 

Ron gestured to his packages. "Long lines." He paused for a moment. "Let's go to Zonko's," he suggested. Hermione started to protest, but Harry pointed out to her that the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes were worse than any Zonko's product, and she reluctantly said okay. 

As soon as they entered the store, they found it more deserted than usual. Harry briefly wondered if Fred and George's wish came true, that everyone liked the WWW better than Zonko's now. However, he saw Fred and George inside, talking to what looked like the manager. Harry nudged Ron and pointed to them, which made Ron whisper, "Probably trying to sell." 

"Would you three hurry up so we can get this over with?" Hermione asked in a disapproving voice. "I need to get some books." 

"I'm supposed to be suprised?" Harry asked. Hermione glared at him and opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by Fred and George. 

"Thank you, sir," They said happily, and starting heading towards the door. They stopped when they saw the trio. "Guess what?" They asked, then answered without waiting for them to reply. "The manager said he'd think about letting us put together a package of products and selling them here." 

Ron congratulated them and said, "But I thought you wanted to open up your own business." 

Fred waved his hand. "We have to start somewhere." 

George continued, "Why not with Zonko's?" 

"That way, people come and buy our stuff, then when the store opens they'll see a whole new line of products from us." 

"So we'll earn more profit." 

Ron stared at them. "Do you realize that's probably the first serious conversation you two have ever had?" 

Fred and George glanced at each other and shuddered. "Scary." 

*** 

Hermione sat, quill poised in mid-air, clean parchment beneath her. Her face was set in a grim line of determination. Ron looked apprehensive, and he fingered his wand nervously. Harry stared at the table, thinking so hard he had a migraine. 

They were doing Potions homework. 

Snape's instructions were to write another essay on the Nuquilla Poison, which was a potion that had the effects of Stunning spell, only worse. The Nuquilla Poison made all of your bones and muscles freeze and tighten so you couldn't move at all, however, your heart, brain, and other organs all continued to work, and you knew what was happening around you. 

_"The Nuquilla Poison has been illegal to use since the year 1870 when a wizard by the name of Francis Montregal used it on his wife, Amelia Montregal, after a bitter divorce. Francis used several Unforgivable curses on Amelia while she was immobile and severely damaged her mind. He was arrested later and Amelia died shortly afterward." _Hermione read from her book. "Woah." 

"Just like--" Harry stopped himself. He had been about to say, "Just like Neville's parents," but remembered his promise to Dumbledore before he said anything. "Er--how many inches was this supposed to be again?" he asked quickly to change to subject. 

Hermione frowned. "10 inches," she said suspiciously. "Well, I'm going to go to bed. I finished my essay," she said while gathering up her materials. She bid them both a goodnight and went up the staircase to her dormitory, leaving them alone in the common room. 

Ron did some creative swearing and balled his half finished essay into a ball. "I'll copy off Hermione tomorrow," he promised. Harry laughed. 

"I only have a little bit go, and Snape'll give me low marks however perfect it is, so copying off her won't do me any good," he said darkly. 

"Harry?" Ron asked suddenly. 

"Yeah?" 

"Let's go outside and practice some Quidditch moves," Ron said eagerly. 

Harry regarded him curiously. "Ron, it's ten o'clock at night. Don't you think it's a little late to be practicing Quidditch? Besides, I'm not supposed to go out on the grounds after dark." 

Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that's right. Sorry. I'm going to bed now, this essay has me frazzled. See you," he called over his shoulder as he ran up the boy's staircase. Harry watched his retreating back. What on earth had Ron acting so strange? Why on earth did he want to practice Quidditch now? 

Harry looked back down on his essay, picked up his quill, and sighed. Then he started writing. _"The Nuquilla Poison is made by mixing the ingredients dragon claws, fairy dust, finely crushed beetle eyes..."_


End file.
